Post #2

A curtain of stars, miles of them, are scattered, glowing, across the sky and their multitude humbles me, which I have a hard time tolerating. She shrugs and nods after I say something about forms of anxiety. It's as if her mind is having a hard time communicating with her mouth, as if she is searching for a rational analysis of who I am, which is, of course, an impossibility: there is no key.

I don't believe that life is supposed to make you feel good, or make you feel miserable either. Life is just supposed to make you feel.

"All I can do is be me, whoever that is. All the truth in the world adds up to one big lie. All this talk about equality. The only thing people really have in common is that they are all going to die. This world is ruled by violence. No one is free, even the birds are chained to the sky. Yesterday's just a memory, tomorrow is never what it's supposed to be." -Bob Dylan.